


A Crooked Moon

by Penguiduck



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff and Angst, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-06-26 06:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 11,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19762339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penguiduck/pseuds/Penguiduck
Summary: Truthfully, you knew very little about him.But even so, you knew more than the rest of the world combined.That didn't take away the edge, though, that ache you felt whenever you were reminded of him.Still, there was a pending vengeance that you waited for, an omen that would allow you to breathe a sigh of relief.It wouldn't happen for a long time, but you were patient. He would keep you company, after all, in your memories and dreams.[Reader x L]





	1. Parting

**Author's Note:**

> I went through an L phase. This is my tribute to him and all that he's managed to accomplish, no matter the trials and tribulations. It's a finished story that I've decided to post here. I'm quite happy with this one -- it's probably my most emotional piece written to date. 
> 
> _For those who don't know me, reader-inserts are my specialty. I seek not to give the reader an identity -- she already has that. I seek to give the reader an adventure, a nostalgic awakening of sorts, a poignant tale that serves to make her heart full._
> 
> Please enjoy.

"I'm going to need to disappear for a while."

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked. He was a private person already -- what could more hiding away, more aliases, more high-security networks do for him?

"It means that I have a new case."

You set down the book you had been reading. "You've had plenty of cases before. What makes this one so different?"

He casually dropped a generous handful of sugar cubes, the handful he had previously been stacking, into his tea. "This one involves _Kira._ "

You froze. 

He apparently didn't think anything off it and continued, "You know, 'new' isn't the correct word for it -- I've been on the _Kira_ case for a while, to be honest with you. It's just that things have taken a surprising turn..."

"But he doesn't even know who you are." You said this confidently because he never gave away his true identity. He only ever used his alias.

"True" -- he took a sip of his tea -- "but that doesn't mean that he won't sooner or later. I got to hand it to him; he's got the upper hand here. He's clever -- not perfect, but clever -- and he learns very quickly from his mistakes. He's also ruthless, as I'm sure you already know."

"I fail to see your point," you said. "It's not like you haven't dealt with dangerous criminals in the past."

"Yes, well, none of them could kill you just by knowing your name and face."

"I get why you're nervous, but is this really necessary?"

"The anxiousness?"

"Stop playing dumb." What a joke, you thought to yourself. He was never dumb.

He sighed. "This isn't about me. I signed up for this detective work, and I understand the dangers; in fact, I've dedicated my life to tracking down criminals, if only to sate my own interests. I also know how to protect myself, but you -- you're not a soldier or a defender of public policy. You're just a civilian, and I can't go putting you in danger by association. Not with _Kira._ And there's no reason to die if you can protect yourself."

Finally, you understood. You didn't like it, but you understood. 

And so, he disappeared. You didn't want to make his job any more difficult than it already was, so you didn't argue. The worst part of it was that you didn't even know where he went or what he was doing. But you did follow the news, and while there were still these "justice killings" out there of convicted criminals who died of heart attacks, you knew that he had not succeeded.

You hoped that this was all be over soon.

You hoped from the bottom of your heart that he would return home, safe and sound.

But hope was not on your side, and it would turn to despair when you eventually learned about L's death.


	2. Trust

There wasn't a word for this.

There wasn't a damn word in the English language -- no, in the world -- that could describe how you felt. You had received so many condolences and sympathies, and while they were sincere, not a single one made you feel better.

Some would say that your heart was broken, shattered.

That was an understatement. You heart wasn't broken -- it had been picked apart by _Kira_ , every second of every day, as though he were digging it out with each vengeful stroke of a blunt, rusty paperclip. 

If only you were as brilliant as L. 

If only you could have been more of a help to him. 

Maybe this wouldn't have happened.

But all these ifs and maybes frustrated you

Your friends and family loved you; they told you to let it go because you were slowly poisoning yourself with these toxic thoughts. 

You could not.

You weren't even given the chance to say goodbye. 

That was what hurt the most. There was no more lounging in the living room while he spoiled murder mysteries for you or a night of riddles while you roasted marshmallows for s'mores. No more playing tennis early in the mornings and then going for a stroll in the park afterward where you fed the ducks. No more meaningful conversations -- and that was what upset you.

You would never know the truth. 

With L, it was always secrets. You would be left to assume, and you were actually okay with that. The secrets didn't bother you because you knew that if they were important enough, he would tell you. He trusted you, and you trusted him to be honest with you eventually.

Maybe that was your fault. Maybe you should have been more forward.

He was always so intelligent and thoughtful when it came to his theories, always ruminating and postulating, working with ideas even if they sounded ridiculous to the average mind. He never accepted mediocrity and was never swayed by popular opinions, no matter how logical they sounded up front.

But when it came to relationships, he was painfully shy. 

It would have been better of you had taken the initiative. 

Then, at least, you would have known.

You were important enough to him for him to protect you by severing contact, and that was all you knew -- and perhaps that should have been enough. 

But it wasn't.


	3. Selfish

You would never forget that day when you found out. You were readying yourself for work that morning, at your desk with breakfast in hand. You checked your email, only to see a strange message in your inbox. When you clicked on it, you heard a very familiar voice, and you perked up with excitement.

Ever since he left, he had not contacted you -- you weren't expecting him to, of course, and he set that expectation. But you were so excited. Maybe he had finished his mission and was coming home.

_"_____,"_ he said, via recording. It had been so long since you had heard him say your name; his very voice sent shivers down your spine.

_"You're hearing the message because I'm no longer alive. You are likely the only one outside of the investigation force who knows about this. I'm sorry. Words probably seem hollow at this point, but at least you're safe._ Kira _won't be coming after you now that I'm dead..."_

The rest of the message didn't even matter. 

You thought he was selfish. It was easy enough for him to risk his own life at the forefront and prerecord a message that would be automatically sent out after he passed away, while you would be wondering what to do with yourself as you mourned his death.

Yet, you knew that you weren't being fair. How could someone selfish be so brave? Ready to tackle the world and its greatest problem?

You sobbed for days. Your blankets were wet, your pillowcase covered in snot and salty tears. Your world collapsed in on itself, leaving you in an empty room with darkness and despair. 

L heavily implied in his message that since you were the only outsider to know about his death, you should not have shared this information with anyone else. That expectation was too much of him to ask, but you kept this secret among only your closest friends and family -- whether or not they told anyone, you never knew, but you doubted that it hurt any further investigations. 

It hurt that you weren't even there at his funeral. If he had one. Would the police have given him one? Or was even that too risky?

You dreamed of him often. Fortunately, these dreams weren't nightmares -- they were more like memories. You found solace in sleeping, but the pain returned when you woke up.

You wanted to stop hurting, but you were also afraid to move on. 

At least, the pain made him feel real, a constant reminder that he was once there in your life.


	4. Spoiled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy! Thanks for kudos so far!

It was the small things that bothered you. You used to have a box of assorted chocolates that sat on the living room coffee table -- L liked everything in there. When he would come over, he would often lose himself in that variety of sweets -- the milk, the dark, the white, the cookies with the chocolate swirls, the truffles filled with walnut creams and raspberries. He would also stack them, and in fact, he was quite good at that. His ability to balance them atop of a silver spoon was extraordinary, and you were always so impressed. He seemed to glow whenever you would cheer him on or laugh at his stalwart concentration -- of course, then he would usually lose focus, and the tower of chocolates would fall, but he was never upset.

Now, the chocolates were in the trash. You couldn't even bear to look at them, much less eat them; you would never buy a box of chocolates again, which a friend said was a shame when he came over and wondered why there were no longer the usual sweets on the table, though he apologized as soon as he realized how careless his comment was.

Your loved ones tried to get your mind off of things, but it was no use. They would take you out to eat, and you would see the desserts on the menu and think of him.

You thought you might find peace in a nearby park, one that you and L had never explored together, but you saw a child licking away at his ice cream. It was strawberry, one of his favorite flavors. You turned away, and there you saw the ice cream man, parading his wares.

There were also pastries in the office where you worked; many motherly coworkers would bring them in to share, and you were reminded of the times when you took two at the end of the day to surprise L. No matter the type of cookie or brownie or cake, he was always pleased that you thought of him.

He often called you a hypocrite because you would always nag at him for eating too many sweets. "Your teeth are going to rot from the inside out, you know," you said to him.

"My teeth are used to it by now," he would argue.

"Only if you brush them."

"I do," he would say, and you knew it was a lie. He was a bit of a slovenly pig sometimes.

You tried to get him to eat more wholesome things on several occasions. You remembered one time when you brought home fried chicken with a healthy portion of mashed potatoes, and he turned his nose to them. You were so upset that he would refuse to eat, but that was in the earlier stages of your relationship. Since then, you had learned that he could only be happy eating sweets. At that point, you turned to a variety of fruits to help you on your dietary mission, with which you found much more success.

However, the night after receiving L's recorded message, when your best friend brought over a dinner of fried chicken and mashed potatoes, you could not keep yourself from bursting into tears. You felt awful because of her spoiled good will, but you also knew that you would not be able to keep the food down. She understood and opted to call for Chinese takeout.

During this time, you lost weight. Your family and friends worried, though you assured them that you weren't trying to starve yourself; you just weren't able to look at food because no matter what it was, it reminded you of him in some way, shape, or form.

But food was only the beginning of your worries.


	5. Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first dream sequence. The rest of the story will alternate between dreams and memories. I hope you enjoy!

You dreams were vivid, full of color and laughter. They started out as memories, but then they became more real. You would see him all the time, able to even sit down and chat with him, even though you knew he was dead. He didn't always respond in a way you would have wanted him to, but you still learned.

He told you what happened in such a blunt way that it infuriated you, though he stared ahead as though he were merely telling a story. "I solved the case," he said. "I know who _Kira_ is."

Of course he did. He was brilliant; he could solve anything. Why else would he lead this sort of life? He was bored with everyday happenings and events, and this detective work would grant him freedom to work not only at his own pace but under his own rules. You knew that he was the seeker of justice, finding it even when he never actively looked for it. He was not a harbinger of the law -- he was merely a tool. 

He had said it before, though you weren't sure if you believed him. He only worked on cases that interested him, those that captured his attention because there was an opponent worth defeating. He was glad to bring those criminals down, set the traps and then spring them. 

He was selfish, he said. 

And maybe he was. But what did it matter? He was using his talents for good. What more could you ask for? 

What more could the world ask for?

L was protecting it. As long as he was keeping people safe, did it matter at all _why_ he did it?

Some might argue that it did. They only wanted valiant heroes protecting the world, after all, but who was perfect? While others acted on emotion, L was composed, usually removed from each situation, allowing to take a neutral perspective. He would choose to make decisions that were rational, void of that emotional error that hurt many other detectives. 

Was he proud of that? Of the lack of emotion?

That would be a debate for another day. For now, you looked at him, his long-sleeved shirt and baggy pants, his wayward hair and his pale skin. And even though he was dead, he looked content. 

You often saw him above the city, atop the tallest building where he could look upon the city. He seemed to enjoy that, and in your dreams, he was always just as you remembered him. He usually looked somber, pensive, either crouched over the edge of the building or slouching over the railing. Right now, he was standing.

"Who's _Kira_?" you finally asked.

"I can't tell you."

"And why not?" This seemed awfully hypocritical of him.

"Because I lost, and I hate losing." He sighed, his chest heaving in defeat. " _Kira_ won this round."

"Tell me who he is," you coaxed, leaning into the rail next to him.

He looked at you with his dark eyes. "No."

"Why not?" you asked, shocked. "I can help you win! I can take that information to the police--"

" _Kira_ 's already won this time. You can't change that." He was blunt, but his voice was gentle. "I'm dead, _____. You can't change that either."

_But I can make your death matter!_ you thought. You wanted to say it, but you didn't need to.

L knew what you were thinking already. "There's no evidence, _____. Nothing you could relate to the authorities. You can't tell them that you dreamt this all up, that I came back and revealed _Kira_ 's identity. They'd check you into a mental institution."

"At least, they'd know the truth. You were right all along, weren't you?"

"The truth doesn't matter unless you can convince others of it. Even if the whole world knew of _Kira_ 's identity, they could do nothing unless there was evidence to have him arrested and executed. That is justice."

"You don't always need the police or the authorities; there are plenty of things I can do on my own."

He was silent for a moment, dissecting the implication of what you had just said and contemplating his response. "I wouldn't want you to do that for me, _____," he finally said, and he placed his hand over yours.


	6. A Crooked Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains the namesake of the whole story. In case you're wondering, this is a memory, and the remainder of the story will go between memories and dreams.
> 
> As always, feedback is much appreciated!

It wasn't just food that reminded you of him, even though food played a huge part of it. It was everything; you were embarrassed by how easily you were triggered.

Even at night, the darkness wasn't comforting. L loved the dark, the pitch black of the night. He often did his work locked in a room, with only the light of his computer screen to guide his movements. 

He was a workaholic. To be honest, you didn't see him often because of how dedicated he was to his cases, and he worked from home sometimes, too, which certainly didn't help. 

But you knew how to get him out. 

All you had to do was text him once you were at his door and tell him that you had sweets with you, sometimes brought fresh from the neighborhood pastry shop, sometimes baked in your own oven. He could never resist.

His home was surprisingly clean, likely kept that way because of Watari. L said that maids came in throughout the day at specified hours to sweep the place; he wouldn't let them stay longer than a couple hours at a time. Otherwise, he felt as though his home was being violated.

Cases were almost always on his mind. He would run some of his theories by you, even though they were of utmost secret. You took pride in this, of course, realizing that he knew he could trust you. Even though you couldn't necessarily follow his logic, you listened, fascinated at how clever he was, how he made connections with events that didn't seem remotely related.

"So all you do is eat sugar and work," you said one day as you brought him a beautiful strawberry shortcake. 

"Yes, it's all I can do to keep busy," he replied as he set the cake down on the coffee table and opened the white pastry box. 

You helped him to a generous slice. "There are other things to do, too, you know."

"Nothing interesting."

"How do you know if you've never tried it?"

"Process of elimination. There are other things I'd rather be doing."

"Like working and eating sugar?"

"Mm."

You watched as he bit into a strawberry. He ate surprisingly daintily, which seemed to fit the variety of food that he so enjoyed. "Let's go outside," you suggested. "I know you like hiding in your dark study, but I think fresh air would do you some good."

He looked a little skeptical.

"I know you have that balcony in the back. You won't even have to leave the comfort of your own home." You smiled at him. "Come on," you said as you tugged at his arm. 

He made it seem like he loathed physical contact -- whether or not he actually did, you weren't sure, but he didn't provide my resistance. He just picked up his little plate of cake and brought it along with him.

Once you were outside, you sighed. The night air was cool and filled your lungs with a pleasant chill.

L was intent on finishing his cake, but once he put his plate down, he joined you, admiring the majesty of the night sky.

"I wish there wasn't so much light," you said, motioning toward the city below. "That way we could actually see something."

"You can see the moon."

He was right. It hung in the pitch black, glowing luminescently as it watched your side of the world with a full-bodied presence. "It's so pretty," you noted. "I love going out from night to night, watching it wax and wane."

"Yes, it does tend to do that," L teased. His face then got serious. "You know, I've always thought the moon was a bit crooked, even when full."

"Well, that doesn't make any sense. If the moon's full, we see it as a circle in the sky -- we can't see whether it's crooked or not."

"Not the shape itself, but it looks like it should be turned about 75 degrees or so counter-clockwise, judging from the darker areas, the solidified lava beds and the meteor impacts."

You gave him a puzzled look.

"I just feel it would be more balanced that way. You don't have to agree."

You couldn't help but laugh at how seemingly defensive he was. "It's not that I don't agree; I've just never thought it like that before. You have a level of perception that is higher than mine, and most others, so for all I know, you're probably right -- it might be more balanced that way. I'm certainly not going to argue with you."

His gaze went from you to the moon. "You're so amicable. The world doesn't always accept differing opinions, especially those founded on mere whim. But I've never liked those sorts of discussions anyway -- I like evidence, cold proof that you were at the scene of the crime, that you were involved in smuggling a million dollars worth of illegally printed cash across the sea, that you bribed the president into handing you the position of an official."

"There's never a situation where there might be two right answers?"

"You're thinking of policy, _____. I don't make laws or even enforce them, nor do I have the desire to. I merely investigate and fit the lost puzzle pieces together for those who do."

"All of the sudden, you just sounded less like a hero." You comment was meant to be a joke, but it seemed that L didn't interpret it that way.

"I never wanted to be a hero."

"Would you rather be a villain?"

L lifted a finger to his lips, deep in thought. You were actually a little alarmed that he was thinking this through. Did you just convert the world-famous detective?

"No," he said. "Solving cases is harder than making them."

You nodded slowly as if asking him to continue.

"You see, terrorists and murderers, kidnappers and tormentors, they all have their own agendas. They have a goal to achieve, and more often than not, they don't care how many have to suffer or die in order for them to succeed. They have the advantage; they have more leverage. All they have to do is make one good threat, and law enforcement and policy-makers are walking on eggshells. However, those seeking out the wrongdoers have limitations; the heroes play the villians' game, and they play by their rules. Now, the secret to toppling these villains is understanding this formula at its basic level. What makes me successful is that I not only seek to make their rules clear, but I also seek to manipulate them."

"I'm sure many people in your field do the same -- you're just better at it than others."

"Well, it certainly puts my mind at ease when I solve a challenging case. Better than arguing about crooked moons at any rate."


	7. Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy! Any comments or feedback would be most appreciated.

Sometimes the memories were so strong that you cried yourself to sleep. But this wasn't always a bad thing, especially since you dreamed about him so much when you were feeling emotional. Your dreams felt so real that you wondered if you were hallucinating.

But what did it matter?

You were sane. You knew he was dead.

Some people might have been bothered by L's phantom visiting them in the middle of the night, but you weren't. You actually found it comforting.

He was simply himself, but a more peaceful reflection of the L you knew. It was as if solving the _Kira_ case brought him a sense of relief, even though he paid the ultimate price for it. 

Of course, you were upset, and you wished so badly that you could avenge his death, but you knew that was not realistic. Besides, L refused to tell you who _Kira_ was, so it wasn't like you could even go to the police. And, truthfully, it probably would not have done any good; as L had pointed out, no one would believe you. It was just better if you didn't know.

L shed his stress, but you were still emotional over his death. 

It was strange because you knew that L was always stone-faced when others began to show extreme emotions, likely because he did not understand how to cope socially. But the L that visited you in your dreams seemed calm enough; maybe he had gained wisdom through dying.

You remembered one dream in particular. You had just drifted off to sleep, your tears staining your sheets. You were thinking about L's final message to you, a recorded one. That meant that he knew he was going to die, and he sounded so assured, as though he accepted his fate as inevitable. But even then, he did not even bother reaching out to you in person. A final visit, a Skype conversation, hell, even a phone call would have been better than a recorded message.

You were angry about that. Were you nothing more than just a mark on his checklist?

And the next thing you knew, you were at the park that the both of you frequented. L was never social, but he did well watching others and telling you things about them that you never would have thought possible to derive with a simple glance. 

He was under the oldest tree in the park, crouching on the bench as though he were waiting for you. Some thought he was so odd, and perhaps he was, but you found his posture endearing, especially since he claimed that it attributed to his success.

Tears were in your eyes. "How could you?" you sobbed as you paced up to him, wiping away the moisture.

"What?" he asked.

"How could you leave without saying goodbye?"

"I didn't. I recorded you a message, a message just for you--"

"EXACTLY!" you said. "It was recorded! For all I know, you could have sent everyone the same canned response! Don't you think you owe me a little more than that?"

He watched you with soft eyes, those eyes with the dark circles beneath them, evidence of his lack of sleep. You could tell he didn't know what to do or say, but he didn't shy away. "I was working in close quarters," he finally said, "with agents I didn't know whether or not I could fully trust. I didn't dare make live contact with you for that reason. I wanted you to be safe."

He was protecting you.

You knew that in your heart, but you needed to hear him say it.

"I'm sorry," you muttered as you sniffed. "I'm sorry." You felt so foolish, bothering him with your silly woes when he was the one who worked tireless nights to save all of humanity.

He responded with handing you bread from the nearby bakery, the end of the crusty loaf held by the tips of his fingers. "Go ahead and feed the ducks. I'm not going to eat it."

You accepted his gift, knowing that he was well-meaning -- sometimes, you would come here with him, and he would stay with you while you shared stale bread with the ducks and other waterfowl. "Thanks," you said. You didn't know what else you would have done without him.


	8. Maturity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to draw your attention to something I'm trying out to thank those who have left or will leave future comments on my works: [An Expression of Thanks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227408/chapters/47937112). If you like raffles and enjoy having your fanfiction requests fulfilled, take a look. ;) I encourage you to check it out! You still have through the end of August to participate.

Sure, he was good at tennis; he just didn't play very often. You thought that he would have played it more if other people weren't involved, but that probably wasn't the case. Truthfully, he was too good to play against most others his age, and he was never the sort to seek out a social activity.

Fortunately, you were also quite good, inviting him to play with you in the mornings and on weekends.

However, you were not _that_ good, and you realized that you would have to improve by a longshot before you would be able to actually put up a fight.

"What other activities do you like?" you asked. "Tennis can't be the only sport you play." He was a lot stronger than he appeared, and this trait surprised many others.

"Some may call it a sport; I don't treat it like one."

"What?"

"Martial arts. Watari set me up with an instructor when I was young. I've developed an affinity for it."

"That's amazing," you said. 

"What is?"

"The fact that you'd take part in fighting. You've always been the brains behind it all."

"And what good are brains if you know nothing about the mechanics and operatives? I don't just send men out on missions without knowing what they're up against. I need to have at least some idea."

That afternoon, he brought you to the dojo he trained at. You hadn't even asked, and L was so reluctant to go anywhere in public that you were surprised that he had volunteered to show you this part of his world. You were asked to remove your shoes at the door, and you immediately thought that the ability to go barefooted might have been one of L's favorite aspects of martial arts.

You met his instructor, an old man who seemed strong in both spirit and body. "Have you come to learn?" the man asked.

Although you were curious, you honestly didn't think you'd do very well. And how much could you learn in a single session anyway? You were about to politely refuse, but L spoke for you.

"She would."

The next hour would be the most grueling of your life. You didn't even learn any martial arts -- you were put through a rigorous routine of push-ups, sit-ups, crab-walks, lunges, and a variety of other exercises that you didn't know existed. L did them with you, of course, but he sped through them with such relative ease that you thought he was mocking you.

Maybe he brought you here just to see you sweat.

He did have a snarky sense of humor, after all.

But you were more impressed than miserable. Sure, he would good at tennis, but you never knew that he had such strength beneath the curved slouch of his shoulders and such lithe agility in his awkwardly placed feet. He never ceased to amaze you. At the end of the session, however, while you were taking sips of water, you were able to watch him perform one of his advanced martial arts forms -- he moved so fluidly that you never would have guessed it was him if you did not recognize his face.

"That was refreshing," he said to you on the walk home.

"I wouldn't call it that," you replied. Your arms were shaking, and you couldn't even feel your legs. 

His lips curved into the slightest of grins. "Shall we return tomorrow?"

You weren't sure what to say. You supposed that depended on how much you wanted to abuse your body, and you wondered how serious L was being. "We'll see," you said.

"I hear a noncommittal answer."

"Yeah, because while you're a glutton for punishment, I'm not."

"Hm? Well, that's fine. There are things I dislike, too. I just thought you might be interested in one of my few hobbies."

Did he really want you to come with him? He was right -- he didn't have many hobbies on the surface. He once said that his favorite hobby was winning, which could be satisfied through many activities.

But he also enjoyed eating and staring off into the sunset. He apparently took interest in you, and not everything was a competition between the two of you, so his only love in life wasn't victory. 

"Do you want me to come with you tomorrow?" you asked.

He stared straight ahead. "I wouldn't want to impose."

"But do you _want_ me to train with you?"

"Only if you'd like."

"You once told me that you were childish. You seem awfully mature right now, you hypocrite."

"I'm hardly perfect."

"Then what are you? Mature or childish? Do you know what you want or not?"

"Oh, I know what I want. I'm mature in that I can contain myself; I'm childish in that I want to ignore my better judgment and take what I want anyway."

"I think we all need to embrace our inner-child at some point."

As soon as you said that, L stopped in his tracks and dropped the gym bag he was carrying. He turned around and grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you close. You could smell the clean sweat, both of you soaked and wet from a day of hard exercise. You could feel his hands, warm and tight against your shoulders. His eyes were dark, deeper than you had ever imagined for that shallow glance. Your lips were close, and you could feel the moist puff of his breath on your skin.

You stood there for several, lingering seconds, wondering what he was going to do, knowing what you wanted him to do.

But then he loosened his grasp and stepped away. "Let's go back tomorrow, then. Together," he said. "Maybe we can get you started on a few basic moves."

"All right," you said, your heart still beating wildly from your encounter. You were closer than you had ever been. What made him stop?

Too bad he wasn't a bit more childish. Maturity sucked sometimes.


	9. Sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to draw your attention to something I'm trying out to thank those who have left or will leave future comments on my works: [An Expression of Thanks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227408/chapters/47937112). If you like raffles and enjoy having your fanfiction requests fulfilled, take a look. ;) I encourage you to check it out! You still have through the end of August to participate.
> 
> Thank you to YellowShapedBox for your review!

"You're still not going to tell me who Kira is?"

L sat crouched on the sofa, his bare feet tucked underneath him. He was enjoying a bowl of assorted berries and whipped cream, placing each piece of fruit in his mouth with his thumb and forefinger.

"No," he said as he chewed.

You plopped down next to him. "I figured."

"Then why keep asking?"

"Why do you do this to me?"

"That doesn't answer the question."

"Your question is rhetorical. I'm asking a real question."

"What am I doing to you, _____?"

You stared straight ahead, your hands folded neatly in your lap. "You keep visiting me in my dreams, and it's not that I don't enjoy our time together, but it's hard for me to move on. When I'm awake, it's like I can't stop mourning because I keep on thinking, not only on the memories, but the visit you made the night before." You sighed. "It's just... it's not fair to me."

He was quiet, the tips of his fingers on his lips as he swallowed a berry; he set the bowl down, letting his arms rest on his knees. "I know I'm childish and selfish," he said. "I guess I never asked you if you wanted to see me. I just thought it's be nice to see you after all this time apart. I... I missed you."

You had never heard such emotional honesty from him. "Really?" you asked in a small voice. "You thought about me while I was away?"

"Every day." His eyes, usually so bold and devoid of warmth, softened when he looked at you. 

You knew this was hard for him to admit. He was a man of logic, of black and white, of solid evidence and equations. He did not understand the swell of emotion between two people. He understood anger and sadness, pain and bitterness, satisfaction and pride. But what was this attachment to another person? The desire to be close, to please, to ensure safety and contentment?

He understood sacrifice; he did it every day. You give something, you get something. An exchange. But what did it mean in his personal relationships?

"I missed you, too," you admitted. "I watched the news every day, hoping that you had caught _Kira_ and that you could come home."

"My work there is done. I've left in the hands of my successors."

"But no one else knows you're dead."

"They will eventually. They're clever, even cleverer than I am."

"Then maybe you'll be avenged soon. You'll be able to rest in peace."

"I'm already at peace, _____. I know who _Kira_ is; I've done my duty. I've done all that I can with what I had to work with, and I've come to terms with that."

"Then why haven't you left yet?"

L stood, shoving his hands into his pockets, slouching as lazily as he always did. "There's nothing for me on the other side. At least, here, I have you." He was staring at the bowl of unfinished berries and whipped cream, though you knew that food wasn't on his mind. "But I understand. You need to find peace, too. You deserve it more than I do."

You understood where he was coming from. You never asked for this, for him to go off and subjugate himself to a mission that would eventually kill him. You needed to be at peace after this catastrophe; you needed solace and serenity because you never wanted to move past this disaster. You had your whole life ahead of you, after all, and it would help if you could cease mourning his death.

But while you did not like the dangers that came with his job, would he be the same if he refused to put himself at the forefront?

You loved him for who he was, all of his bizarre habits and tendencies, his intellectual genius, his awkward attempts at socializing. 

How could you accept those words? Did you deserve more than him? Maybe from a logical point of view, but love was not so matter-of-fact. He might have thought that it was, but you would show him that he was wrong. 

He was saddened; you could tell. He was bitter that his intentions had put himself in a place that caused you so much pain. 

What happened had happened. No one could change that.

But you could not live like this. And even though you had spoken your mind earlier, you knew that you could not let L go. Not yet. You still needed him, even if you had nothing more than his phantom that came and followed you into your dreams. When you awoke, you'd be a wreck, but while you were asleep, he'd be there.

The truth was that you needed him. You needed him more than you needed to move on, so how could you chase him away when he so willingly came to you?

You couldn't help it. You knew that he liked to keep his distance and avoid physical contact, but you sprung from the couch and leaped toward him with open arms, hugging him from behind. Your eyes stung, your nose prickled, and you could hardly stop the tears that threatened to spill.

"I'm sorry," you said between sniffles. "I'm sorry I said it, but I don't want you to go. I don't think I could bear it."

He turned around, awkwardly returning your embrace. Nonetheless, he looked pleased. "I'm not going anywhere, _____. I won't." _Not this time._

You had no idea how long you stayed in his arms, though it seemed like such a short time. The next thing, you knew, you opened your eyes. They were wet, and you wiped at them, recognizing the familiar warmth of sun as it streaked through your bedroom window. 

Another comforting dream led to another mournful day.


	10. Honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to draw your attention to something I'm trying out to thank those who have left or will leave future comments on my works: [An Expression of Thanks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227408/chapters/48579194). If you like raffles and enjoy having your fanfiction requests fulfilled, take a look. ;) I encourage you to check it out! You still have through the end of October to participate.

Weeks went by. There was not a moment of your life that he was not on your mind, and there was not a single second that you did not feel that dull pain in your heart. 

He had left a pair of shoes in your closet. You remembered why -- you had convinced him to go hiking with you once. He was not far from kicking and screaming, but you promised him that there was a small restaurant at the top of the mountain that served the best creampies you had ever tasted. You said that you would buy him however many pies his wanted, and he could have anything from chocolate to banana to raspberry to pecan.

He reluctantly agreed, and you took him out to purchase hiking shoes. You knew he hated wearing anything on his feet, even socks, but there was no chance he could hike without some form of protection.

After returning to your place, he threw off the shoes and refused to wear them ever again.

You were digging through your closet to search for your boots when you found his shoes. "L..." you whispered. Then came that aching feeling. How you missed him.

You remembered coming home with him that evening. By the time you had walked through the door, L was hungry again and disappeared into the kitchen to raid your pantry for cookies and other sweets.

You stuffed his shoes in the closet because you knew he would never wear them again (unless you could bribe him with more sweets), and followed him into the living room. 

He was hunched over, building a pyramid out of gummy bears. To his side, there was a generous plate of your homemade cookies.

"So how was it, the hike?" you asked. "It wasn't so bad. I finally got you off your butt to go do something."

"It was all right," he said.

Even though he was straight-faced, you knew he wasn't being honest. "How many lies have you told me?"

You knew that in his line of work, he probably told a lot of lies. There was manipulation and deceit -- there had to be. Otherwise, he wouldn't be as successful.

He seemed pensive. "No more than necessary," he said with a finger to his pursed lips. "Surprisingly, I don't lie to you very often. Not like I do with others."

"Is _that_ a lie?"

"I wouldn't dare."

"Oh yes, you would."

"Eh, you're right." He had knocked over his tower of gummy bears and was sorting them out by color at this point. "But if it would make you feel better, you may ask me anything within the next three minutes. I will be 100% honest with you."

You looked at him with a skeptical glare.

A moment passed, and he stared back with a wry grin. "I promise."

"All right." You began to think, trying to figure out what to ask him first. "What's your real name, L?"

"Lawliet."

"What? Really?"

"Yes. You can see where 'L' comes from."

You giggled. "You don't look like a Lawliet."

"What is a Lawliet supposed to look like?"

"Hm." You shrugged. "Lawliet reminds me of someone romantic, the sort of guy who does the rumba with a rose in his mouth, you know? Or maybe a jolly Frenchman walking around with a baguette in hand and a beret on his head?"

"I will never by that guy, _____. Sorry to disappoint." He went back to nonchalantly stacking his gummy bears.

"I'm not disappointed in the least," you said, even though you knew he was joking. "Can I call you Lawliet? Or do you not like your name?"

"Identity protection aside, I don't mind it. But if you must, make sure you do it in private."

"I'll just keep calling you L, then. It's easier, and I won't slip up even if we're out."

"Fair enough. You have two minutes and eleven seconds remaining."

"Tell me about yourself."

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything. You're always so secretive; you never talk about where you came from or what your ambitions are."

He started with the red gummy bears at the base of his new structure. "I'm an orphan. Watari took me in when I was young, and I grew up in one of his orphanages. They removed me several years later for rigorous training after they discovered my potential for deduction and detective work. I've been working ever since, hired by police forces and agencies all around the world when they have trouble with their cases. Here I am now."

"That can't be everything," you said. "You say it all so casually, but it's quite the achievement."

He was now on the green gummy bears. "Oh yes. I left the final part out. I met a young woman named _____, with whom I became friends. She likes to ask me silly questions, and I have to make futile promises that I am speaking the truth or she doesn't believe me."

You threw a gummy bear in his face. "You're ridiculous."

L hardly flinched, though he gave you a sideways glance. "She's intelligent. Witty. Caring..." You were interested now, and you settled in your seat. "...assuming, sometimes, but that's fine. She can be stubborn, especially when she thinks that I eat too much sugar or need to see the sunlight more. She's genuinely interested in my well being, it seems. She's also a hypocrite because she stocks her pantry with sugary foods and bakes on a regular basis, which I can only assume is for me since she never consumes cookies at the rate that I do. She knows that I like the dark, that I prefer to keep to myself in the silence, though for some reason, her company is acceptable." By now the first half of his pyramid was finished.

"She's fond of books and stories. She likes it when I tell her about my cases, constantly prodding me with questions and further explanations. I wonder if she ever thinks of herself as excessively talkative. She lives alone in a safe neighborhood, and judging by the layering of clothes in her hamper, she probably wanders around in her underwear when there's no one else around..." Here, you threw another gummy bear at him, and he actually let out a laugh, which you had never heard before. It was a clear laugh, completely innocent, evidence of his enjoyment in this conversation. "...but I think she's all right. She puts up with me, clearly capable of a feat that many are not."

"You'd be right there," you said, preparing yourself with another gummy bear in case he had another snarky remark. 

"She's a good sport when I poke fun at her, a good listener, accepting of our differences," L continued. "She's the good in the world that is worth defending; she carries a candle through the darkness where the monsters crawl, those that snatch the innocent from the street for consumption. She's such a rarity. She's kind. Empathetic. Mature. And... she's beautiful."

You stared at him. Had you heard right? He had never complimented you like that before. Not on your physical appearance anyway. "You mean that?"

"I do," he said. "You are."

"And what else?" you asked gingerly.

"Sorry, _____." His smile was small and coy. "I do believe your three minutes of honesty are up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://penguiduck.tumblr.com/) for updates and insight on my writing process!


	11. Tell Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please enjoy!

"How close were you?" you asked. "You must have been very close; otherwise, _Kira_ wouldn't have killed you."

"I was. Fourteen days away to be exact."

"Why fourteen? One more than suspicious thirteen?"

"Because that's what the Death Note claimed. If I waited till the fourteenth day, I would have known."

That was the most he had ever spoken about the case. He didn't want to give you any details, likely because he didn't want you to attempt anything with that information. You no longer bothered asking.

You were dreaming or hallucinating. You were never sure which; you never cared which. The both of you were laying upon a sunny hill, one covered in buttercups, with the smell of apple blossoms in the distance. There was a warm breeze in the air, and you admired his hair as it was tousled in the wind.

"Who are your successors?" you asked. He was so cautious, ready for anything. You had no doubt in your mind that he had prepared for their success in the event of his death.

He closed his eyes and then opened them. "Mello and Near. Two boys, also orphans. They tested even higher than me on the IQ test."

"But IQ isn't everything," you said.

"No, it's not, but it does count for something."

"It's been over three years. I hope they're close." You rolled over onto your back. "Do you ever check in on them?"

"No. It's their task now. Not mine. I've never been good at minding my own business, but I thought I'd start here. The stage has been set; now they need to perform."

"You have a lot of faith in them."

"They learned from the best, after all."

"You're also very modest."

"Thank you."

You turned toward him. He was so pale in the golden light of the sun, among the bright yellow flowers, and the dark circles were still prevalent beneath his eyes. His hair was a mess, though there was something attractive about its wayward look. If time would slow and allow you an eternity here, you would stay.

Every night, he would visit you.

And every night, you wished that there was just a moment longer.

He knew what you were thinking. He reached forward and touched your face was the back of his fingertips, smoothing the hair out of your eyes with the back of his hand. "_____," he said.

"Hm?"

"Do you remember our last conversation before I left?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"I said 'if.' _If I would survive._ I should have made that more of a priority."

"You had to catch _Kira_."

"I keep saying that, too. Trying to justify it. But I couldn't even succeed, and I lost my life for it."

"You may not have been able to catch him, but you figured it out. What are the chances of anyone else being able to say that?"

"But what does it matter that I know? _Kira_ is still out there, still merciless, still playing the role of divine judgment."

"You know," you said, "you once told me that you did detective work for yourself, that you didn't care so much about justice but for your own interest. I knew you were a concerned citizen, too. I knew it."

"I've said a lot of things, _____, many of which don't matter." He curled up on his side. "But my actions did, and here we are. Sharing our thoughts through a dream because I died of a _Kira_ -induced heart attack."

"It feels real enough." You weren't sure how you turned out to be the optimistic one here.

"I wish I could tell you it was. Do I have to remind you that I'm dead?"

You shook your head, your eyes welling up with emotion. "I know it," you said coldly. "Nothing's been more defining of my life."

"I would apologize again, if I thought it'd help."

"You being here helps."

"But all dreams come to an end, _____. You can't linger here forever."

You knew he was right, but you weren't ready to let go. How could you? You could spend hours asleep every night, which only meant more time with L. More quality time than you would ever have had in real life when he was a working detective.

Maybe it was better this way. You could live two lives and learn to accept this.

"I know you're listening, _____."

You rolled to your side, turning your back away from him, but he scooted up against you from behind. 

He sighed. "You're so stubborn. What am I supposed to do with you?"

You knew the answer immediately, though you were hesitant to say it. Still, he was quiet, which drew the response from your lips. "You tell me."

His arms reached around your waist, pulling you close. "I've never been good at relaying my feelings, have I?"

"No, and you're still terrible."

"Hm," he chuckled. "I can say with certainty that I may have fallen for you."

" _May?_ " You put an offended emphasis on the word.

"You take me far too seriously, _____." And suddenly, he had rolled you over onto your back, and he was on top of you, his eyes somehow both steely and soft. "I'm only 100% sure, and even then I might be underestimating. And if you thought anything else, you really are an imbecile. The day I saw you after you received my message, wracked with tears and sobs, curled up helplessly on your bed, unable to eat and sleep, I regretted everything. I could have died again."

"L..."

"Call me Lawliet, if you'd like. No one else does; that name's reserved for you, and I'll be whoever you need me to be, _____. I'll be the man I deprived you of. Just tell me what you want… tell me what you need."

It was then that you understood just how painful this ordeal was for him. He felt guilty for what he did, what he chosen to do. He had never communicated this to you. Whether it was because he didn't know how to or because he didn't want to burden you with his own emotions, you were not sure. You knew he wasn't happy with the way things turned out, but you had never imagined him this flustered, this affected.

You reached up and touched his face, your thumb running across his cheekbone. "You've been suffering, too," you said. "And you're right. We can't keep lingering here. We have to move on. For both of our sakes."

He did not reply. He lay his head on your chest, and you thought you felt wet tears seep through your shirt. 

Morning came too quickly after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to draw your attention to my raffle to thank those who have left or will leave future comments on my works: [An Expression of Thanks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227408/chapters/48579194). If you like raffles and enjoy having your fanfiction requests fulfilled, take a look. ;) I encourage you to check it out! You have through the end of October to participate.
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://penguiduck.tumblr.com/) for updates and insight on my writing process!


	12. Emotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy! Almost done posting this one! :)

You had never seen such raw emotion from him. He usually hid it away, behind that mask, the sharp eyes, the messy hair, the slouch. You knew why he did it. He could do nothing else; his brilliance forced him away from others, and his incredible skills of deduction required it. To fully immerse himself in his work, to dedicate himself as a champion of justice, he could not let others into his life. He needed focus and initiative, and in order to logic the world away, filling the neat crevices of his mind with information and classifications, he could not distract himself with these human emotions.

He had to separate himself, and he had been doing this so naturally from such a young age, it was like he had forgotten how to be human, how to feel. 

Sure, he had a primal understanding of emotion. He knew anger and pride, sadness and happiness. But there was a facet of emotion that he had attributed to human error in his detective work -- he thought of it as something that should have been avoided, something that interfered with otherwise logical thought.

And how could you say for sure that he wasn't correct?

All you knew was that your emotions were not a mistake; they couldn't be classified as human error because they weren't wrong. They were _fact_ ; they _defined you_. 

L hadn't understood that. He had no idea how debilitating, how controlling, how unforgiving emotions could be. And now that he had been smacked in the face with nothing but raw emotion, he didn't know how to handle it. He didn't know how to handle you.

The dream had long faded, and you sat in bed, trying to figure out what to say next. What would you do when you saw him tonight? You would be late for work at the rate that you were thinking, but you didn't care. 

It hurt seeing him crumble. He had always been so strong, and not by typical societal definition, but he was another kind of strong. He was the strong that shouldered the world's burdens. He saw horrors that you could never imagine -- you were sure that there were many cases that he never spoke of after they were closed. He saw corruption, manipulation, fellow humans falling from grace. He saw the temptation of fate, the sacrifice of life, the destruction of faith. 

And how could he continue to do his detective work? 

He could by removing himself. He took away the emotion that made him human, numbing himself to these horrors so that he may cut through them from a fresh, uncontaminated perspective. He did this in a way that no one else could, and that was what made him so successful.

You waited for sleep to lull you away that night, that comfort of L's presence what you wanted more than anything else.

But the night passed, and it was morning again.

L had not come.

You wondered if he was still upset, and you patiently waited for the next night. 

He did not come. He did not come the next night or the one after that.

He was gone, and you were crushed.

You felt like you could die.

But you couldn't blame him because it was your idea, your final resolve that night. The both of you had to move on. You had to live your life, and he had to go wherever the spirits went.

He was only doing what you suggested, and even though you knew it was for the best, you really didn't want him to leave.

That realization was what hurt the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to draw your attention to my raffle to thank those who have left or will leave future comments on my works: [An Expression of Thanks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227408/chapters/48579194). If you like raffles and enjoy having your fanfiction requests fulfilled, take a look. ;) I encourage you to check it out! You have through the end of October to participate.
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://penguiduck.tumblr.com/) for updates and insight on my writing process!


	13. Inheritance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sincere thank you to oscar_milde and emmdies for their kind reviews! <3

Months later, it was in the news.

_Kira_ had been caught. _Kira_ was dead. 

You were at work, and you were so emotional that you had to take the rest of the day off. All of these years of trailing and sleepless nights had now paid off for the investigators; now the rest of the world could rest.

Most importantly, L could rest. His death was no longer in vain, and his achievements rolled out so that the world could know and honor this mighty detective. Everyone now heard of his sacrifice, but only you truly understood the impact it had on him.

Still, despite the relief you felt, you were also saddened. Even though the wounds had begun to heal a little, you thought about him every day. You missed not seeing him every night. You were angry with yourself for turning him away when you still needed him, when he still needed you.

You did not expect him to return to you, not after you had essentially told him that he needed to leave. 

That night when you were at home, you heard an unexpected knock at the door. When you opened it, you saw a suited woman in her mid-forties, a steady smile on her face. "_____ _____? I'm Melinda Zelkins, Detective L's attorney. I'm sure you've heard about the recent news regarding his involvement in the _Kira_ case?"

"He's gone," you said, even though you had known that far longer than she had.

"I'm sorry, Miss _____. I'm sure he meant a lot to you."

"More than I could put into words." You swallowed, trying to fight back the tears. "How can I help you? Would you like to come in?"

"That would be best."

You sat in your living room, and you learned even more about L's secrets from Melinda. It turned out that L had solved hundreds of cases, and his compensation for his efforts was immense, to the tune of millions, including real estate and other investments. 

"I had no idea," you said. "But why are you telling me this?"

"Detective L cared about you very much. You are his sole beneficiary."

You were floored.

"I know it's a lot to take in," Melinda said. "We certainly don't have to discuss legal matters tonight; I know you must be exhausted and in mourning. Take your time, my dear." She handed you a business card. "You call me whenever you're ready. Wait a few days, maybe even a week or two. I'll walk you through the transition process then. Take care of yourself, Miss _____."

"Thank you," you said as you waved goodbye. As soon as you closed the door, you had to stifle a cry. You crumpled up, back against the wall, and sank to the floor. Wealth was not important to you, and you certainly were not after L's inheritance. Millions. You would give every cent back if it would bring him back.

Still, in his death, he was taking care of you.

It was so obvious, even if he couldn't put his feelings into words properly. 

How you wished you could see him. 

Just one more time so you could say a final goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to draw your attention to my raffle to thank those who have left or will leave future comments on my works: [An Expression of Thanks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227408/chapters/48579194). If you like raffles and enjoy having your fanfiction requests fulfilled, take a look. ;) I encourage you to check it out! You have through the end of October to participate.
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://penguiduck.tumblr.com/) for updates and insight on my writing process!


	14. Farewell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to oscar_milde, moorflower, and emmdies for your comments! Very much appreciate you taking your time to leave me some feedback!

You had a hard time falling asleep that night, though you were so hopeful that he would come. 

He granted your wish, and while you were dreaming, he came to you. He came with his hands shoved into his pockets as he casually strode in the light of the setting sun. Black still lined his lower eyes -- had he not been resting?

"_____, you called?"

"I've been calling for months. It's about time."

"I do recall you saying that we both needed to move on."

"We do, but that doesn't mean I want to."

The light of the setting sun made him seem less pale. "Well, you can see how much I wanted to leave. The other side just isn't as welcoming. Don't want to take that dive yet." He paced around you, staring off into the city down below the building. "So I follow you around every day."

"What a creep," you joked.

"It's not as fun when you're dead."

"So I had no idea you were rich," you said, changing the subject.

"I never pegged you as a gold-digger."

You rolled your eyes. "There are richer men easier to seduce."

"Point taken." He shrugged, turning his attention to you. "I wish you wouldn't cry so much. How do you expect me to leave when I see you sobbing like that all the time?"

"And how do you expect me to continue living when you're not there with me?"

He was quiet for a few moments. "I love you, _____," he finally said.

His words had caught you off guard; you thought that you would have to be the forward one, but it looked like he had taken the initiative. 

"I love you," he said again, stepping toward you. "I should have told you sooner, but you know that better than I do, even before I did. You always said, 'Better late than never,' so here I am, speaking to you my heart. I'm admittedly not very good at this, but if I'm going to disappear from your life, for good this time, then you have the right to know."

Your heart was pounding, your eyes stinging, and without another second of thought, you embraced him. He wasn't surprised at all, accepting your hug by wrapping his own arms around your body. He held you like he had never held you before, pressing you close to his chest, like he never wanted to let you go.

"I've been avenged by my successors, and my attorney will take care of you. You can let me go now, _____, and I can rest knowing that you'll be safe."

You shook your head against his chest. "I don't want you to go."

"We've been walking in circles for years. It's time to break free," he said gently. "I want you to move on."

"I know." You squeezed him tightly, realizing that this would be your final moment together. If you let him go, you would never see him again. 

You held each other for several minutes, the sun setting in the distance, staining the early evening in a vibrant orange. This building was the tallest in the city and overlooked the scene for miles around. However, it was noiseless, fitting for a dream, a final meeting between you and the man you loved.

"Lawliet," you said.

He pulled away just slightly so he could look at you. "Hm?" It was a light hum, framed with surprise.

"How many people know your real name?"

"A small handful. But you're the only one who's called me that in years. It's nice not going by an alias for once, kind of like I've shed my multiple identities, leaving the one I was born with. I used to feel vulnerable going by Lawliet, which is why I created my many other aliases. But I don't need them anymore, not where I'm going. And certainly not with you; I should have realized that earlier."

"I'm glad you realize it now." You looked up at him. "I've always loved you," you said. "I've always loved your work ethic, the way you are so focused when working on your cases, the way you seek for justice and peace. But, really, I liked our time together when you didn't have work on your mind even more. I love your attachment to sweets, your philosophical mind, your devotion to the martial arts -- I love everything about you, including all your little quirks."

"Even the lying?" he joked.

"Even the lying. While I appreciate honesty, I understand that with your occupation, you had to be deceitful sometimes."

"You take that better than most."

You exhaled in a dry laugh. "And how many people love you, Lawliet?"

He seemed to relax at you using his real name. "I think you'd be the first. Aren't I lucky?" And without waiting another moment, he leaned in and kissed you. 

You kissed him, too, relishing in the warmth of his touch, the kind that you had never felt before. There were no more words -- you had already said everything worth saying. Now, you just wanted to remember him, the feeling of his hair, the supple curve of his body, his warm breath on your skin.

When the sun set, you ached with sadness. The moon had risen, and you looked up, watching the pale crescent glow. "Look," you said. "Another one of your crooked moons."

He sighed. "Since I've died, it has grown on me. It's kind of beautiful, crookedness and all."

"I think it's beautiful, too."

Lawliet smiled, a genuine shine in his eyes. "It's time, _____. It's almost morning. Let me say goodbye before you awaken." He kissed your forehead. "I'm going to the other side. But don't worry about me; I know you do. I want you to live your own life. I want you to be happy. And even if I'm not the one when you make it over, know that I'll still be there."

"I hope it's soon." Your lips brushed against his cheek.

"For your sake, I don't. I love you, _____." He stepped away, though your hand was still in his.

"I love you, too, Lawliet. Goodbye." Your fingers were still touching.

"Farewell, _____."

Your final moments became nothing more than a memory when you woke up to the sun. The warm light shined through the windows, across your bed and over the tips of your fingers, the same hand that he had been holding just seconds ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to draw your attention to my raffle to thank those who have left or will leave future comments on my works: [An Expression of Thanks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227408/chapters/48579194). If you like raffles and enjoy having your fanfiction requests fulfilled, take a look. ;) I encourage you to check it out! You have through the end of October to participate.
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://penguiduck.tumblr.com/) for updates and insight on my writing process!


	15. Lawliet's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the line, I'm afraid. As I've mentioned to several of you through comments, the goal of this story was to give L and his lover a chance to say goodbye to one another. I wanted to highlight L's regret in not having been transparent with the RC sooner. I'm sorry if you cried, but I definitely did while I was writing this. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3 I hope you enjoyed this tribute to our favorite detective!
> 
> Thank you to my commenters: epicpenguinexplosion, HitsugayaRose, oscar_milde, and emmdies! Your kind words and support mean the world to me! 
> 
> As I've said before, I specialize in reader-inserts, so if you like my writing style or approach, please feel free to check out my other works! And if you've commented recently, please check out my raffle -- details are in the end notes!

You tracked down the obscure orphanage in which Lawliet had grown up; you also met Near, Lawliet's successor. You ended up donating a hefty sum of your inheritance to the organization, thinking that there might be others like him, those prodigies who may also lend a hand in saving the world from a common terror.

With the remaining amount of the money, you thought long and hard about what you wanted to do with it.

You ended up opening a bakery, something that you had always wanted. You stocked it with cakes and cookies, brownies and fudge. You had strawberry shortcake, chocolate pudding, and apple pie. There were raspberry preserves, candies dipped in caramel, and yogurt-covered raisins. All of his favorites.

People flocked from all over for your sweets, and every child's pleased grin reminded you of Lawliet when he would impishly stack and eat the desserts you made him.

He wanted you to be happy, and while you would always miss him, you realized that you could not mourn forever. 

So you smiled again, hoping that he would see.

And see, he did. He said that he would venture to the other side where spirits belonged, but that was a lie. He would much rather watch you. 

He followed you everywhere, unbeknown to you. He never visited you in your dreams again, but he was content in seeing you every day. He waited patiently, and he had years to think about what he wanted to say when you would one day join him.

To his chagrin, you tried dating again a few years down the line. He didn't like admitting it to himself, but he was glad when your relationships failed.

He never left your side. He realized you would never know, though he found it comforting to watch you perform your everyday activities. He especially enjoyed watching you sleep and wondered what you were dreaming about. He also peeked on you when you were showering, which made him giddy because you couldn't scold him. He liked spending time in your bakery, being around two of his favorite things -- sweets and you.

But most all, he was smitten with his namesake, and your decision to so wholly remember him. Sure, he liked the sweets, but he no longer needed sustenance, even though your desserts were quite pretty to look at. What he liked most was sitting on the ledge of the window, listening to customers coming in and the familiar ring of your voice.

"Welcome to Lawliet's!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to draw your attention to my raffle to thank those who have left or will leave future comments on my works: [An Expression of Thanks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227408/chapters/48579194). If you like raffles and enjoy having your fanfiction requests fulfilled, take a look. ;) I encourage you to check it out! You have through the end of October to participate.
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://penguiduck.tumblr.com/) for updates and insight on my writing process!


End file.
